Smitten with Ravioli

by Ellen Jacobson

  He’s grinning ear to ear. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  * * *

  An hour later, we’re sitting in the cafeteria, sipping on coffee, my leg propped up on a chair with an ice pack on my ankle. After telling Preston about my journey and getting him to promise that he’ll never wear body spray or adopt a hairless cat, he leans across the table and grabs my hand.

  “I can’t believe you did that. Getting on a plane must have been so terrifying.”

  “It was.” I look down at the charm bracelet on my wrist. “But it was worth it.”

  He frowns. “Is that why you came back? For your bracelet?”

  I squeeze his hand. “That’s not the only reason. There’s another one.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My mom gave me some advice. She said that there were three things I needed to do. One of them was to think about what would really make me happy in terms of my career direction.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you came back.” He releases my hand. “Are you going back to grad school? You can do that now. Your name has been cleared. Everyone knows that you’re the one who wrote that paper.”

  “Nope. Grad school isn’t for me. I’m not sure what my future holds, but that isn’t it.” I cock my head to one side. “Do you know how they found out about Joel stealing my paper?”

  He bites back a smile. “No idea.”

  “Oh, my gosh. It was you. You found the evidence proving my innocence.” I run my fingers through my hair. “All this time, I thought you wouldn’t believe me. But not only did you believe me, you set out to restore my academic reputation.”

  “I can’t take all the credit,” he says. “There were other people looking out for you. You just didn’t have enough faith that folks would be on your side.”

  “But why? Why did you do that for me?”

  He pulls his chair closer to mine, leans forward and strokes my cheek. “Don’t you know?” I tremble as he lightly kisses my neck, working his way up from my collarbone to my ear. He runs his fingers through my hair, turning my face toward his. After gently nipping my bottom lip, he whispers, “It’s because I love you.”

  I pull back, my eyes wide. “You…you…?” I can’t say the rest of the sentence out loud. It can’t be true. There’s no way he could love someone like me, especially after what I did to him.

  “I love you,” he repeats.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He grins, then pulls me back toward him and silences me with a kiss.

  When we come up for air, I take a deep breath. “Hang on for a moment.” I look around the cafeteria. Fortunately, it’s empty at this time of night so no one saw that kiss. Because, wow, that was some kiss. “There’s something I need to do before my mom sends me another text about it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Apologize to you.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  I put my fingers on his lips. “Shush. Let me do this. I owe you an apology. A big, fat apology for lying to you. Once I started, I didn’t know how to stop.” I shake my head. “No, that’s another lie. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want you to find out who I really was.”

  “Ginny, it’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Actually, you’re right. It’s not okay. But I understand why you did it.”

  I sit back in my chair. “You do?”

  “I do.” He looks down at the table. “Remember how I was engaged?” I nod. “Well, when I discovered that she was cheating on me, I was angry. Really, really angry.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “But I was also mortified.” He runs his hand across his chin and smiles wryly. “I was worried what people would think if they knew that my fiancée cheated on me. Even though I didn’t do anything wrong, I was embarrassed. So embarrassed that I pretended we were still engaged for a couple of months after we broke up.”

  Preston pauses to take a sip of coffee. “She had moved to another town to be with him. She was a business consultant, always traveling around the country for work. So, for a while, it was easy enough to just pretend that we were doing the long-distance relationship thing.”

  “What happened?” I ask, leaning forward and putting my elbows on the table.

  He shrugs. “I got caught. She came back to town to visit some friends for the weekend with him in tow. Word got out that she was with another guy, and I ended up looking like even more of a fool than I already was.”

  “Wow.” I can’t think of what else to say that could ease the hurt I see in his eyes, so I simply repeat myself. “Wow.”

  He points at my cup. “Finished?” I nod and he scoops it up, along with his, and walks over to a garbage can to deposit them. When he sits back down, he looks at me intently. “So as you can see, we both have a lot in common. We’ve both lied because we were too embarrassed to tell the truth.”

  My phone buzzes. “Hold that thought,” I say. “It’s a text from my mom.”

  “What does it say?”

  A smile slowly creeps across my face. “She’s reminding me of what the third thing is that I need to do.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?”

  “Tell you how I feel about you.” I tug on the sleeve of his tweed jacket, pull him toward me and whisper in his ear, “I love you.”

  I pause, expecting him to engage in silly banter with me saying, “No, you don’t,” but instead he simply says, “Yes, yes you do.”

  17

  Epilogue – Preston

  As the ship’s horn blasts, Ginny leans over the railing and waves at the crowd on shore watching us leave port. She turns back toward me, a huge grin plastered on her face. Her smile is so infectious that before I know it, I’m grinning from ear to ear as well. How did I get so lucky? I still can’t believe she said yes.

  Of course, the way I proposed to her might have had something to do with it. I made her a special ravioli dish from scratch, then served it to her during a candlelit dinner. If there’s one thing she’s smitten with, it’s ravioli. I think I come in a close second—probably tied with her favorite cake, tiramisu—because when I asked her to marry me at the end of the meal, she jumped up from the table and squealed with delight.

  She’s squealing with delight now, too. “Look, I think those are dolphins escorting us out to sea.”

  “I can’t imagine a more wonderful birthday than this.” I tuck a stray auburn curl behind her ear, then trace my fingers down her cheek. “Going on a honeymoon cruise with my beautiful wife to the Caribbean and dolphins—it doesn’t get any better than that.”

  “Happy birthday, Preston,” she says. “I think August sixth might just be my new favorite day of the year. Right after the day we got married.”

  “It doesn’t make you think about sanitation in the Roman Empire and what’s-his-name?”

  “Who? What?” She cocks her head to one side. “I’ve never heard of either of those things. The only thing I know is that the most wonderful man in the world was born on this day.”

  “Oh, who’s that?”

  “My husband.” She looks from side to side mischievously, then lowers her voice. “He’s a really adorable nerd. But don’t tell him I said that. It might go to his head.”

  “I bet he’s a historian. They’re the worst.”

  “They are, aren’t they? Can’t stop talking about the past.”

  “I suppose you want to talk about the future instead?”

  She bites her lip and looks off into the distance for a moment, then says, “I have an idea about the future. More specifically, my future.”

  I squeeze her shoulder. “Go on. Tell me.”

  “I think I’ve finally figured out what I want to do with my life.” She takes a deep breath, then the words rush out of her. “You know how I love history, right? But I don’t like academia and professors.” She glances at me. “Present company excluded.”
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  “Obviously,” I say wryly.

  “And you know how I love food and travel.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “Well, I got a call from a friend who’s the editor of an online magazine. She wants me to write a weekly column for them featuring recipes from around the world, tying them in with the history of the various regions. I might even get to travel to do research.” She twirls around like a little kid. “Me! Can you believe they want me?”

  When she stops spinning, I kiss her on the forehead. “Of course, I can believe it. It’s the perfect job for you.”

  She leans against the railing and holds up her left hand. The emerald-cut diamond on her ring finger sparkles in the sunlight. “Are you admiring your ring?”

  “I am,” she says. “I really love the art deco setting.”

  I furrow my brow. “Is it too old-fashioned for you? We can exchange it if you don’t like it.”

  She laughs. “Not on your life. I like old-fashioned things. After all, I married you.”

  “I’m one lucky guy.”

  She reaches up and tugs at my bow tie, then raises herself on her toes and lightly brushes her lips against mine. “I’m one lucky girl.”

  I put my hands around her waist and pull her toward me, kissing her slowly and thoroughly. The horn blasts again, and she breaks our embrace. She leans over the railing and watches the dolphins for a few moments. Then she turns back toward me and runs her fingers along my collar. “I like your bow tie.”

  Slipping my fingers underneath the straps of her sundress, I say, “Your straps are pretty nifty.”

  She slowly unties my bow tie. “But I think I like you better without it.”

  I slip one of the straps off her shoulders. “Ditto.”

  As the horn blasts one last time, she grabs me by the hand. “Shall we continue this in our cabin, Professor Whitaker?”

  “With pleasure, Mrs. Maarschalkerweerd-Whitaker.”

  * * *

  Thank you for reading Smitten with Ravioli! I hope you enjoyed it. If you want to find out what happens with Mia and Pierre, check out the next book in the series—Smitten with Croissants—which is set in France. You’ll find a sneak peek of Smitten with Croissants at the end of this book.

  You can pick up a copy at your favorite retailer at books2read.com/croissants.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you so much for reading my book! If you enjoyed it, I’d be grateful if you would consider leaving a short review on the site where you purchased it and/or on Goodreads. Reviews help other readers find my books while also encouraging me to keep writing.

  The Smitten with Travel romantic comedy series is inspired by my experiences living as an ex-pat for many years in Scotland and New Zealand and my travels, including my own “happily ever after” when my now-husband and I eloped to Denmark, followed by our honeymoon in Paris.

  I have many fond memories of my travels throughout Italy, especially the time my husband and I spent in Ravenna. We loved the food, the history of the area, and the people and their culture—all of which is hopefully evident in Smitten with Ravioli. I had a lot of fun writing this book and reminiscing about our Italian adventures.

  I want to thank Scott Jacobson and Elizabeth Seckman for reading early drafts of this book. Their insightful suggestions and feedback were invaluable. Many thanks to my editor, Beth Balmanno, for her keen eye and thoughtful edits.

  And, of course, I couldn’t do this without you—my wonderful readers. Your support and encouragement means everything. I love to hear from readers so please feel free to drop me an email at ellenjacobsonauthor@gmail.com.

  About the Author

  Ellen Jacobson is a chocolate obsessed cat lover who writes cozy mysteries and romantic comedies. After living on a sailboat for many years, she now travels around in a teeny-tiny camper with her husband and an imaginary cat named Simon.

  Her Mollie McGhie cozy mystery series, featuring a reluctant sailor turned amateur sleuth, is inspired by her own sailing adventures and misadventures living aboard sailboats in New Zealand and the States.

  Her Smitten with Travel romantic comedy series is inspired by her life as an expat in Scotland and New Zealand and passion for exploring new countries and learning about new cultures.

  Find out more at ellenjacobsonauthor.com

  If you would like updates on current and future releases, please sign up for her newsletter at: https://www.subscribepage.com/m4g9m4

  You can also follow along on:

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  Also by Ellen Jacobson

  The Smitten with Travel Romantic Comedy Series

  Smitten with Ravioli - Book #1

  Smitten with Croissants - Book #2

  Smitten with Strudel - Book #3

  The Mollie McGhie Cozy Mystery Series

  Robbery at the Roller Derby - Prequel Novella

  Murder at the Marina - Book #1

  Bodies in the Boatyard - Book #2

  Poisoned by the Pier- Book #3

  Buried by the Beach - Book#3.5

  Dead in the Dinghy - Book #4

  Shooting by the Sea - Book #5

  The Mollie McGhie Sailing Mysteries: Cozy Mystery Collection, Books 1-3

  A Sneak Peek of Smitten with Croissants

  This sneak peek of Smitten with Croissants features some of the same scenes from Smitten with Ravioli, but written from Mia’s perspective. As you read this excerpt, you’ll find out more about what is holding Mia back from love, as well as learn about Celeste’s somewhat crazy ideas for getting a tattoo.

  Chapter 1 – Smoochy Face

  “For crying out loud, this is a buffet line, not some nightclub,” I mutter under my breath. “Go play smoochy face someplace else.”

  My friend, Isabelle, glances at me. “Smoochy face? What are you talking about, Mia?”

  I point at a young couple engaged in a full-on make-out session and pull a face. “No one wants to see that while they’re waiting to eat. Why did they even bother coming on a cruise if all they’re going to do is grope each other? They should have stayed home. Or, at the very least, inside their cabin.”

  Isabelle laughs. “You really aren’t a fan of public displays of affection, are you?”

  “That’s not true,” I protest.

  She arches an eyebrow. “Hmm . . . I seem to remember the time your boyfriend tried to hold your hand in public. You almost decapitated him with that sword of yours.”

  “First of all, he wasn’t my boyfriend. I only went on a few dates with him. A few too many, I might add.” I put my hands on my hips. “Second, it’s a lightsaber, not a sword. And third, his hand was all gross and sweaty.”

  “Gross and sweaty, huh? So that’s why you stabbed him?”

  “I did not stab him . . . At least not on purpose. Listen, all I did was try to pull my hand away. But then I lost my balance and tripped, and that’s when my lightsaber accidentally smacked into his neck.”

  “Good thing it’s made of plastic, otherwise you could have done some serious damage to his carotid artery.”

  “I guess.” I purse my lips. “Unfortunately, I can’t afford one of those custom-made steel lightsabers with a titanium handle.”

  Isabelle rolls her eyes. “Did you ever think that perhaps you’re a tad bit over obsessed with Star Wars?”

  I ignore her jibe, instead nodding toward the couple holding up the line. “Geez, look at where his hands are now. If he moves them any more, we’re going to find out what color her underwear is any second now.”

  “Hmm, you might be right. Her skirt is pretty short. Doesn’t really fit the 1950s theme for tonight’s dinner. Miniskirts weren’t a thing until the sixties.” Isabelle toys with her pearl necklace. “But I guess it’s pretty hard to pack for all the themed events they have planned for the cruise.”

  “Well, i
f I managed it, anyone can.”

  Isabelle snorts. “That’s true. You are one of the most disorganized people I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m not disorganized. I’m creative. Completely different.” I shake my head as the couple continues to hold up the line. Standing on my tiptoes, I wave my hands over my head at them. “Hey, knock it off or get a room. Some of us want to eat tonight.”

  Isabelle grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Shush. They’ll hear you.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “The line’s moving now. You can cool your jets.”

  “My jets are just fine, thank you very much.”

  Isabelle scoffs, then turns and smiles at the girl in line behind us. It’s one of those smiles that says, “Please ignore my friend. She’s constantly embarrassing me.”

  The girl smiles back. I’m pretty sure her smile means, “Your friend is totally right about that couple. I admire her for saying out loud what the rest of us were thinking.” At least, I’d like to think that’s what it means. Who knows, maybe she was just smiling about the fact that they’re serving two kinds of coleslaw tonight. People can get excited about that kind of thing.

  “Looks like we shop at the same place,” Isabelle says to the girl.

  It’s true. She’s dressed similarly to us with a full skirt, gloves, and pearls. As I admire her auburn curls, which are tucked underneath a broad-brimmed hat, I toy with a strand of my long blonde hair, trying to decide if I would look good as a redhead.